


All The Things That Never and Always Mattered

by ironhearted



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, M/M, One Shot, Time Skips, implied romantic feelings, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 15:26:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17831174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironhearted/pseuds/ironhearted
Summary: The blood of his enemy flood beneath Bruce’s gloved fingertips. Trembling, Bruce hesitated as he moved his hands from the gunshot wound to beneath The Joker’s head, lifting it up onto his lap. After all of these years, was it possible Bruce still cared for him? For the man he once was? Apparently so, seeing as his mask was thrown across the room in hopes that maybe The Joker was still alive. Bruce didn’t want him dying staring into a mask. No pulse. The frozen facial expression made Bruce sick to the stomach. How did it come to this?





	All The Things That Never and Always Mattered

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm so sorry in advance for how little I went into depth about it, I just had an idea and wanted to do a little something for it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this lil angst fest !

The blood of his enemy flood beneath Bruce’s gloved fingertips. Trembling, Bruce hesitated as he moved his hands from the gunshot wound to beneath The Joker’s head, lifting it up onto his lap. After all of these years, was it possible Bruce still cared for him? For the man he once was? Apparently so, seeing as his mask was thrown across the room in hopes that maybe The Joker was still alive. Bruce didn’t want him dying staring into a mask. No pulse. The frozen facial expression made Bruce sick to the stomach. How did it come to this?

The night could not possibly be darker, and it wasn’t in the sense of the sun’s absence. It wasn’t even in the sense of the smoke and dirt that clouded most light from entering the broken down building. Not in a physical sense, no. “Jo-” Bruce cleared his throat, the croaky voice he had worn disappearing as a softer, more hurt one took its place. “Jeremiah..” Tears spewed from his eyes as the unfamiliar name dawned his tongue for the first time in years. How did this happen? “I know you can’t hear me,” Bruce began, he briefly wondered if he had gone mad, too, after all he was talking to the dead body of the boy who once was. “I know there’s no point in telling you this, but..” A shaky breath escaped from his bleeding and bruised lips.

Something inside of Bruce knew he shouldn’t be there, he had to leave before it all blew, but another part of him knew this was exactly where he needed to be. “When we first met, I was weary. You were the brother of someone who made several attempts on my life, I was actually afraid it was all some sort of plot.” Something of a bitter chuckle arose. “You proved me wrong, at that point in time, you were completely different. You were a polar opposite from Jerome. You were good, you cared about people, about.. me.” The raven haired man, head towering over the dead man’s, ran a finger through the man opposite him’s hair. “We were friends.” Bruce took a look around him. It was all so much, the dark suit he wore to fight for justice, the purple one Jeremiah had worn to challenge him. It was all for him, in a twisted way, it was.

“I cared about you, too, you know.” The tears were flowing, unable to stop. “Before all of this... I considered you a friend -- a best friend, someone who understood me. Even if our friendship prior to Jerome’s spray was short, it was the best time of my life.” Bruce’s voice had began wearing down to a whisper, “I tried so, so hard to help you. To-to cure you.” For a moment, Bruce’s eyes faltered, gaze escaping to the gun only a few feet away from them that had taken Jeremiah’s life. Although, Jeremiah hasn’t really been there in over ten years, he had been gone ever since the spray. “I wish he had more time.” Bruce lifted Jeremiah’s head from his lap, feelings of guilt, sadness, and discontent washing over him. Gently, Bruce placed Jeremiah’s head on the ground, standing up and turning back for only a moment. A decade of fighting, all leading up to some common crook killing the closest thing Bruce had to a friend. Maybe in another lifetime, he would be able to admit how much he felt for him. How much he loved him. None of it mattered as the building Bruce left had blown, it was over. It should have been him.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it!


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